


Professional Greif

by skeleton_comics



Category: Deadmau5 (Musician), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5512103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_comics/pseuds/skeleton_comics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank unlocks the door to his trailer home and sheds his jacket with the bright red 'deadmau5' on the back, sighing in contentment. The fight that night had been intense, and he is happy, but asleep on his feet and a new paycheck in his pocket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professional Greif

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I'm not sure where this is going, but if you guys want more of it let me know

Frank unlocks the door to his trailer home and sheds his jacket with the bright red 'deadmau5' on the back, sighing in contentment. The fight that night had been intense, and he is happy, but asleep on his feet and a new paycheck in his pocket.

Frank is an assistant for the world renowned robo-fighter deadmau5. It's a huge deal, and he only managed to get the job because of his friend Jamia, who'd pulled some strings for him. The job is a lot of hard work to keep the star of the show satisfied, and it involved a lot of patience, understanding, speediness, and efficiency. Deadmau5 runs a very tight ship with his crew, and just because Frank has some friends doesn't mean he can't be fired in a heartbeat for not giving DM5 his towel fast enough or not refilling a water bottle.

Another thing that's vital to keep Frank's one and only job is to keep on the low down about CB10. He has no idea what the fuck CB10 is or does, but all he knows is that it's what they call 'the big guns' that they only use when DM5 is losing-- a rarity in their time. There are only a few members of the crew close enough to DM5 to know about it, and Frank is pretty sure it's illegal to some degree. He doesn't ask questions.

Frank strips from his work clothes and puts on some sweats, flipping on the ratty television in the corner of the rickety trailer. Frank pops open a beer and flops onto his couch with a sigh. The news reporter drones on about something with what Frank thinks might be the fight, but he's not sure.

He doesn't even know that his eyes are closed before he takes two sips of the beverage, until suddenly it's morning, and there's a loud banging on his door.

"Whatthefuck!" Frank rolls of of the moth-eaten couch, shaken from his slumber. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands until he's seeing black spots when he blinks. The banging won't stop. "Alright, alright, alright already!" Frank grumbles and scrubs his hands through his hair, wondering if it's a mess (and with his luck, it probably is, but these people at his door seemed pretty persistent so he's not gonna do anything about it now). Sipping the night old beer that was sitting on the counter, Frank swings open the trailer door and blinks at the sudden sunlight.

There, standing in front of him, is deadmau5 himself. What the fuck.

"What the fuck?" He blurts, and immediately gasps and covers his mouth. Did he just say that? Fuck, he just said that.

DM5 smirks, "May I come in? It's getting hot out here," Frank stares for a moment, and remembers where he is and who he's talking to.

"Yeah! Yeah, come on in. Sorry for the mess," he steps aside, letting DM5 and a tall, stocky blond guy with a lip ring come in. Bob, he thinks. He's kinda scary, and you don't want to get on his bad side. Bob was one of the few in the crew that Frank was actually afraid of to some degree. DM5 looked around the trailer, eyes scanning the rows of books and movies among random stuff with vague disdain. "I don't want to be rude or anything, but why are you guys here?" Frank inquired, hitching an eyebrow at the two men standing in the middle of his home.

"We're here because we think that it's time you knew what was going on. You've been with us for a while now, and I think I've gained your trust. You remember, on your first day, we told you not to mention anything about CB10?" DM5 spoke slowly, as Bob placed a black bag on Frank's counter that he didn't notice Bob carrying before. It looked like an ordinary black bag, but with deadmau5, nothing was ordinary-- especially if it's a black bag. Those are just shady in general.

Frank's eyebrow that had slowly come down shot up again. "What about it?"

"Quit doing that with your eyebrow, didn't your mama ever tell you not to make faces? You might get it stuck like that permanently," DM5 snickered, and Frank's stray eyebrow lowered itself again. "I think that it's time to tell you about CB10."

"Okay," Frank cautiously started, sipping some more of his beer, not offering any to DM5 or Bob (He didn't like them THAT much). Bob unzipped the black bag and pulled out... a cat. It was a metal cat, seemingly turned off. The cat was sleek and elegant, a brilliant contrast to Frank's trailer. "What's that?" Frank questioned, brow furrowing as he leaned closer to it.

"That, my dear Frankie, is CB10, otherwise known as Cat-bot 10. It's the highest technology we have, and it's very smart. So smart, it's almost artificial intelligence." Frank frowned at the nickname used, but was quickly deterred to the cat bot.

"Wait, artificial intelligence? Have you guys even SEEN Age of Ultron, because that whole movie is basically explaining why that's a BAD THING, and why Tony Stark needs to chill for five minutes." Frank tapered off, the example seemingly lost on the two men. Stop it Frank, you're really cutting it close here, watch your mouth, don't get fired. Shut up and listen. Right. "Sorry, you were saying?" Better.

DM5 shook his head quickly and continued his statement. "We use CB10 in case of... emergencies. When I'm losing, right? What we do, is turn them on like this," DM5 clicked his fingers and whistled a tune, and the metal cat stirred. It began to glow faintly in the metal and the 'iris' of the eyes in a bright tealish green hue. The cat purred, shook out it's limbs, and gracefully scampered around Frank's trailer.

"Whoa. Is it programmed to do that, or is it doing that on it's own?" Frank's eyes followed the metal feline as it sniffed around his stuff.

"They're programmed to have very realistic features, and they have a mind of their own. We can communicate to them though, giving instructions and the like. Usually I don't need them unless I tell them to pull the plug on the other fighter."

Frank gasped, "You, you pull the plug? You shut down the other fighter's bot?" Now, keeping CB10 a close secret made a lot more sense to Frank. DM5 was cheating to win if he had to-- it wasn't the underdog story that was known to the world. Frank was disgusted. He almost quit on the spot, but then he stopped. This was the only job he had, and the economy really sucked at the moment. He couldn't afford to lose it.

Bob nodded, and his face darkened. "Frank, if you tell anyone, anyone at all, we WILL know, and we WILL deal with it. I highly recommend you don't tell anyone, you know, for your health." Bob's lips pulled into a menacing smile, sending small shivers down Frank's spine, him nodding in earnest. Message received. Message REALLY fucking received.

"Telling you about CB10 wasn't the only reason we came here. Frank, I need you to do something for me. Something very important, and possibly dangerous. Can you do that?"

"What do you need me to do?" Frank shifted, and CB10 weaved between his ankles like a cold metal snake. Frank shivered again.

"I need you to go undercover in another fighter's crew. You know, take him down from the inside. He's good. He's really good, and I'm fighting his bot next week."

"Who's the fighter?" Frank's eyebrow almost rose again, but he stopped it. How were they trusting him with this?

"Gerard Way." DM5 said flatly, a frown on his face.

Frank froze, setting down his lukewarm beer, eyes wide. CB10 jumped onto the counter in front of DM5 and Bob. "Wait, you don't mean the same Gerard Way who defeated Brendon last week? The Gerard Way who's the youngest bot fighter in the world at his level? THAT Gerard Way?"

Bob sighed exasperatedly and nodded. "Yes, THAT Gerard Way. We need YOU to make sure that he doesn't win against DM5 here next month-- that could be the end of this crew. We don't want that now, do we?" The blonde brute leaned forward menacingly, with a squint that dared Frank to refuse. 

He made up a list in is head in about 0.02 seconds. Accepting the offer: DM5's trust. Respect from the crew. Respect from BOB. Keeping my job. Learning more about the world of bot fighting. Not accepting the offer: No respect anymore. Distrust. Being FIRED or DEMOTED. Staying in the dark about some other bot fighter tactics. Possibly being killed because of his knowledge of CB10. To be fair, it wasn't really a contest.

"Yeah, I'll do it," Frank nodded thoughtfully, reading the faces of the two crew members in his kitchenette. They looked at him slyly as CB10 sniffed around Frank's kitchenette. DM5 snapped his fingers, summoning the cat to him. He turned the feline off and put it back into the black bag.

"Thank you for your cooperation. We'll be sending you instructions shortly." DM5 said with a smirk, Bob looking pensive, and they left his trailer as fast as they came.

 


End file.
